


Seaside Songs and Lullabies

by SilverFoxFlame



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Aunt May was good, Beaches, Crushes, Dates, Fluff, I'm trying my best okay, Love, Love by a beach, Love-dovey stuff towards the end, M/M, Seaside love, Small mentions of Ryan Seacrest, Somebody help me with tags please, What do I put for the tags, angsty, beautiful boys, blooming relationship, golden beaches, late night slow dancing, love by the water fountain, oh well, please accept my gay sons, romantic, very fluffy towards the end, water fountain, whispering sea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 10:10:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12862323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFoxFlame/pseuds/SilverFoxFlame
Summary: Peter Parker has always lived in Seacrest, a small town located right by the sea. When he was younger, he would hold Aunt May's hand and take strolls down the strip of the endless golden beaches, giggling and smiling. The waves would sing him soft lullabies that lulled him into a sleepy haze.Now, he lost the love of his life. It hit him harder than a lightning strike, harder than if a large boulder had crushed him. He was devasted- he had been for the past two years now. Worst, he never dared to set foot on the beach again or touch the smooth water of the sea. It hurt him to much- reminded him of her to much.Enter Wade Wilson, a city-boy actor and playwriter who's looking for inspiration down by the sea. Seacrest has everything he's looking for- glowing blue water, golden sand and clear skies. Most importantly, it has Peter Parker- the thing he didn't realize was missing from his life until now.Now Wade has a new mission- to win the heart of the lovely Peter Parker. He's willing to do anything to see him smile or laugh, to see him happy once again. He wants to clear up the stormy clouds that crowd Peter's mind and let him breath in the sun. To show him the beauty of the ocean and beaches once again.





	1. Stormy Skies and Stormy Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! First fan-fic here on this wonderful website! Any tips, advice or feedback is deeply appreciated, so I hope you enjoy this!

The long shush of the waves spilled over the darkened sand, the soft crashing sound echoing across the beach. Darkness spilled over the waters like a bucket of paint, coating the water in a thick blackness. The water gently lapped at the sand, pulling in and reaching over in a lulling, hazy pattern. The air was cool, the kind of cool that was refreshing and airy, the one where it felt like you had the whole world to yourself for just one night. 

Peter Parker placed his smooth feet into the silky waters, a smooth and pleasant sensation reaching across him as he closed his eyes. The water was cold, yet to Peter it was familiar. He used to often came to the beach right before the night fell, enjoying the little slice of peace and tranquility he had before the sun would glaze across the sky and slowly disappear until a black void filled the sky. 

Deep breath, he thought, in and out- just like we’ve practiced. 

The stars twinkled majestically above in silence, yet their patterns were gently laid above him as if somebody methodically plotted them to create only the fanciest and most delicate of patterns with nimble fingers. Well, maybe not in complete silence, the sea was always happy to greet it’s nighttime friends when the moment arised. 

Peter used to sit by the beach and dip his toes into the water when he was younger, curling them and uncurling them as he giggled with glee. His Aunt May would sit down next to him in a cloud white dress with a little lace at the bottom, a floppy white hat to match her little dress. She would crouch down next to him, eyes shining brighter than any reflective and sparkling ocean. For once, they would be happy, having joyous little Peter swish his feet around in the salty water an hour or two before the sun would abid his small seaside town farewell for the day. 

He stopped just placing his feet in the water when he turned ten. He instead would cup some water gently in his hands and toss it, watching as the droplets splattered on the ground or back into the ocean. Sometimes he would take a little bit and splash it on Aunt May when she wasn’t wearing her cloud-white dress with a little lace on the bottom. She would chuckle and chase him along the gold-kissed beach, sand slipping between their toes like the time that slipped between their fingers. 

He stopped cupping the water in his hands and tossing it when he was twelve. He would then crouch close to the water, close enough to hear the sea whisper, and splash Aunt May with the force he had at the time- as long as she wasn’t wearing her cloud white dress with a little lace at the bottom. She would always be caught off guard and chuckle before turning around and seizing him into a massive, loving, comfortable and warm embrace. They would laugh and all would be kind enough to let them have their moment, letting the sea witness their beautiful smiles and affectionate laughs. 

He stopped splashing the water at Aunt May when he was fourteen. He instead would lay down so that the lower half of his body was in the water, while his top half wouldn’t. He would enjoy the sun beaming down against his body, the soft tugging of the waters as if to urge Peter to follow the sea. Aunt May would always lay down next to him and do the same thing, intertwining their fingers- as long as she wasn’t wearing her cloud white dress with a little lace at the bottom. He would soak up the sun and enjoy the feeling of the sand crawling underneath his body, the water retreating only to move forward again, the sun heating up his body and most importantly he enjoyed the presence that Aunt May had even if they were silent. He felt safe with her, like he was in a protective bubble of love and affection. 

He stopped laying down half in the water and half in the sand when he turned sixteen. He instead didn’t go to the beach. He never came close to the sea, he never returned. Not even Aunt May, in her cloud white dress with a little lace at the bottom could make him feel warm- not when the clouds above his head seem to hold him back from everything he loved. Instead, Peter felt alone for the first time in his life. Aunt May was in her white dress with a little lace at the bottom, except she was buried underground in the cemetery. That was the year when everything crumbled around Peter, when everything he had ever known vanished. The presence of the sea disturbed him. 

Peter Parker was now eighteen- a technical legal adult and was supposed to have gotten over his phobia of the beach and the sea he had once called home. Supposed to. Tonight, he had gotten to the beach and had his feet placed in the water like he were eight years old again, but got up after only thirty seconds. He tried to come back to the beach every now and then, but the flashbacks that haunted him crowded him like a flock of crows, pecking away at his memories and his doubts, his insecurities and his fears. 

Peter stepped away from the water, letting the waves crash against the sand with no feet to block them now. His pants were rolled up to just above his kneecap, a tired expression labeled across his face. His feet were bitterly cold now that they had left the water, but it was never the kind of cold he used to know. It was the kind of cold that made you feel like a second was a minute and a minute was an hour, the kind that made you feel like you were alone in this cruel world, that no matter what you would end up alone. He learned to cope with that cold for two years now, yet the feeling always made him shiver every time he felt it. 

He took a few dreary steps backwards, staggering. Heaving out a long sigh, he put on his red plastic flipflops he wore to come to the beach with. He didn’t bring anything with him, so he just turned and left as the sea called for him to return to their waters. 

He was silent, hating that he tried to make himself go through that again. He wanted to prove that he had moved from Aunt May’s death, but it hit him harder than anybody could’ve thought was possible. His neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Asher, took him in and gave him the spare bedroom that they usually used for guests. The couple themselves had no children, but Aunt May had raised them with Peter as their neighbor so the two families knew each other well. Still, no matter how close he was with the older couple, they would never come close to even the thought of replacing Aunt May. Never. 

Now Peter had left their flat, found himself a horrible, cheap apartment on the west side of town and decided to call that home. He had posted a few advertisements for a roommate, but he didn’t get anybody’s attention just quite yet. The town was small, so he wasn’t even sure if anybody would be interested in staying at his crappy apartment. Peter didn’t have the money for college or university, but then again most people in this little town by the sea didn’t have much education level higher than high school. Still, the thought that he may have to be alone in a tiny apartment where he probably couldn’t even afford heating for at least the next few years saddened him. 

Peter trudged along the beach and made his way up onto the colder, cobblestone path that connected the strip of the beach to the town center, where Peter grew up eating mint chocolate chip ice cream with Aunt May. Her favorite flavor had always been strawberry. He hadn’t gotten to go get ice cream since the day the police found her corpse. Everything reminded him of her, which only lamented Peter. He truly, truly, tried not to be so struck by grief over her death, but it’s hard to recover when you have left to go on. It’s like trying to scale an impossibly high wall and on the other side lies nothing- just an abyss. 

He didn’t pay attention to where he was walking, just the slight breeze that whispered in his ears. His feet fell into a rhythmic pattern as his mind was lost in a daze of thoughts and emotions, ones that had held him captive for the past two years. His flip flops clicked against the smooth cobblestone, the clouds moving overhead in a stormy matter. He knew it was said to pour tonight, but he had forgotten and silently cursed himself for doing so. He picked up his pace and shoved his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants, keeping his head low. 

You’ve done it again Parker, everytime you even see the beach you look the other way. You flinch whenever you think too hardly about the beach. What made you think this was a good idea? Forget it, you should’ve just slept on the crappy yellow couch back at the apartment. Sleeping is always the better option. Always. 

He groaned and started to head into a light jog, not wanting to be stuck in the rain. The town itself was relatively small, so he could walk to anywhere from anywhere, and his apartment in the west side was just twenty minutes away if he alternated from a brisk walk to a light jog. He took a sharp right, foot planting at he swerved himself and almost ran into the brick building. Cursing himself, he grumbled and started to sprint, legs flexing and the sound of feet hitting the stone echoing across the narrow street. 

He knew this place better than anybody else- he could take a tourist for a full tour of the town if he was blindfolded. He knew where he was headed, yet a slap into reality jolted him awake as he stumbled into somebody. He fell back, landing on his bum, as he groaned and looked up, trying to make out a form of a man within the almost-gone dim glow of the stars. 

“Crap! Sorry about that dude, I didn’t see that you were there. Uh, well, hope you didn’t twist your ankle or anything! Yep, my bad. Myyyy bad. Uh, gotta scram? Yeah, gotta scram, bye!” A mysterious voice called out from before him and he could tell the guy was rubbing his neck, probably embarrassed. Before Peter could respond, the man sprinted off into the distance, leaving Peter a little flustered and annoyed. 

He rubbed the lower part of his spine and winced before stretching a bit. Everything felt fine, though he was a little sore. Weirdest part about the encounter was that he knew everybody in the small town of Seacrest and yet the voice of the man sounded new. He definitely didn’t know him, which begged the question: what was a stranger doing running around a small town by the sea in the middle of the night right before it announced that it was going to be pouring rain? Peter scoffed and continued to jog, heading towards the west side with a new cluster of thoughts tangling themselves in the expanses knot of Peter’s mind. As long as he got home before it started to pour, he would consider it a win. Forget whoever that man was, he had to stay focused, on track. Yet, there was a nagging feeling the back of his mind that he just couldn’t get rid of, no matter how hard he tried.


	2. Chester's Toy Mania

Streaks of yellow slipped through the flimsy, dusty curtains of the tiny apartment, an old rickety bed creaking as Peter shifted, truning his back to the peeping sun. He hated mornings- what was there to like about them anyways? He grained and squashed a pillow over his head, hoping to evade the silent call to wake up and get going. 

He never understand how people did it- some could just waltz out of bed, put on a tracksuit, go for a one hour jog at six in the morning, return, meditate, drink two cups of tea, throw on a business suit and head off to work with a smile on their face. To Peter, those people seemed out of their mind. Why would want to torment themselves like that? Heaving a sigh of defeat, he knew he had to get up anyways so he swing his leg over his bed and got up. 

He rubbed his groggy eyes, hair frizzy and mangled from tossing and turning in his sleep. He used to be able to sleep very still, not dead still but still none the less, but now his nights consisting of turning, the occasional grumbling, brows furrowing and the clutching of his pillow. Threw the small hallway to the left of his room stood the kitchen a.k.a. the small counter space with a microwave, toaster oven, mini fridge and a few cabinets smushed into a very confined area. He hated his kitchen, but at least he had one. Not that it mattered, he didn’t really cook to start off with. 

Grabbing some Frosted Flakes and a chipped, cheap plastic bowl, he poured himself some cereal and because he hadn’t fully awoke from his deep slumber he almost put water instead of milk into his bowl. Almost. Peter had been lucky that it started to drizzle slightly for a few minutes and only started to drastically pour down when he was a minute away from his apartment last night, it could have been worse though he did arrive with his hair soaked and energy sapped from his body. 

Humming, Peter finished his cereal, placed it on the counter (I’ll clean that later, he told himself), took a quick, cold shower and got dressed in a red flannel shirt and some casual jeans. He had the afternoon and evening shift at a bookstore located in the center of town today, but that wasn’t until later. Until then, he had the lovely Thursday morning to himself. Ever since he graduated, Peter worked his butt off in hopes of keeping his apartment in a livable condition and hopefully raising enough money to take at least some sort of college or university course. Mondays through Saturday mornings where when he worked and he had Saturday afternoons, Sundays and the occasional hours during the weekday to himself. He never realized how much he’d miss the comfort of having a routine hourly schedule from high school, but now that we living by himself it made him realize it. 

Peter decided that he would hang around the center of Seacrest that morning, having nothing better to do at this time. He grabbed his beige satchel, slipped on his battered and worn-out black sneakers before slamming the door to his apartment behind him shut and locking it. He decided to go for a brisk walk that day, not in a frantic hurry to get anywhere. The morning sun beamed brightly over him, proud and mighty, yet it was to early for Peter to actually feel the tingle of heat against his skin. Slight breezes picked up around him, whistling as they danced across the cobblestone paved streets and danced in a swirling harmony around him. 

That was one of the reasons that Peter loved Seacrest so much, the cobblestone streets couldn’t be found in many other towns or cities around there. It gave the town charm and flair, it gave the tourists another memory to remember and the locals another image to associate with the town. His way to town was silent as he was lost in his thoughts, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Soon he reached the center of town where people were already busy with groceries, talking, their morning runs and just casually strolling by. He brushed some of his silky hair out of the way, noticing how alive the center was despite the early hours or daytime. 

It is tourist season after all- what did I expect? Parker thought to himself with a small chuckle. 

The center of town was shaped like a large circle with four streets that lead into it. In the center stood a large water fountain with the statue of a maiden with long hair, sitting daintily on the ground, hand extended above her with a determined expression on her face. Behind her was waves of turbulent water that seemed to rise as her hand gave the command. Only the locals knew the story behind the statue at the water fountain. It was said that long, long ago a young maiden was sitting near the water at sunset as she waited for her brother to arrive home on a boat. While waiting, three men attacked her, the first one was unhappiness, the second one was unfaithfulness and the third was laziness. Since she had no means of defending herself, she struck her arm out in front of her in hopes of protecting herself, which shot out a large wave of water that scared the three men away. According to the old story, the maiden did greet her brother happily and was unaffected by the three men. 

It was always Peter’s favorite story growing up- the idea that all things miserable could be personified and driven away. Now that he was older, he knew better and scoffed at the way he used to think back then. Miserable things come whether you deserve it or not and it always shows up but you never notice until it’s too late, when you can’t do anything about it. 

Small boutiques and stores lined the rim of the circle, with people going in and out with content looks on their faces. Peter’s favorite store had always been the bookstore he worked at because the books seemed to have an answer to every single one of his questions. Why was the Earth round? How did the homosapiens discover how to reproduce? What was the name of the Greek goddess of love and beauty? Why did lightning exist? Why did cats purr? Well, almost all of his questions. 

Peter watched as a boy with hair that seemed to glow red like embers in s fire pulled the hem of what seemed to be his mother’s skirt. When she looked down, the boy extended his hand for s coin, which his mother placed gently. He smiled, joy lighting up his face as he raced to the fountain and threw the coin in. Everybody knew that throwing a coin into the fountain protected you from unhappiness, unfaithfulness and laziness, but he wondered if that small boy knew. Would he ever know? 

Peter sighed and decided to actually enter a store instead of leaning against a building like he was doing. He entered the store closest to him, which was Chester’s Toy Mania, a store that had been around for years before Peter was even born. It was filled primarily with different types of card games, board games and stuff that families would enjoy playing together over the long, hot summer. Not that Peter had a family to play those games with anymore. He looked around, watching as a kid picked up a game of Uno, a teenage girl trying to decide whether to get get Clue or Monopoly and an elder man buying three stack of playing cards at the register. The store was a little empty from what Peter could see, but that was fine by him. 

“Hey, could you help me out for a few seconds? Should I get Cards Against Humanity or Scrabble? I left those two games back at home, but I think it’s essential to have one non-video game game for over summer, you know?” Peter whirled around to find a taller man holding a game of scrabble in his right hand and a box of Cards Against Humanity in the other. As strange as it was, the voice sounded oddly familiar to Peter and the voice seemed to echo in his mind. 

“Uh… Scrabble?” Peter offered, not really knowing either. Another tourist looking to blow a week by the beach before heading home, he thought, just great. 

“Okay, thanks. Hey, haven’t I encountered you before? ‘Feels like I have, but I can’t quite place my finger on it. Cute boy, nice face, plump lips… I would’ve remembered a face as nice as yours, but I can’t,” the older man said, thinking hard about it. Peter didn’t recognize the man by face, but just by voice. 

“Uh, I think you have the wrong man… Sorry,” Peter said, shrugging and taking a step away. The sooner he could end this conversation, the sooner he could contemplate the string of compliments that the man gave him. 

“Well, I’m Wade Wilson aka the funniest, most talented and sexiest man alive! Or at least in Seacrest. Everybody else here is just a bunch of wrinkly old dudes who probably spend their afternoons in their wheelchairs, watching golf, eating cabbage and snoozing off at two PM,” Wade explained with a smirk plastered on his handsome face. 

“Oh really now? And what are those so-called fantastic talents you possess?” Peter asked, unsure himself why he pressed on. 

“Well, to start, I am the most fabulous actor this world will ever know! My career’s just starting, but I’m bound it hit it up in now time! Two, I have the amazing talent of being able to dislocate both of my shoulders and pop them right back in place at free will. What to see?” Wade asked, a little bit too excited about the offer. 

“No thanks. Well, have a great rest of your-” 

“I can also talk to puppies. Like, I know what they’re thinking. It’s weird because it’s always the same thought- they loooove me. They adooooooore me! And I love them back because puppies, you know?” Wade explained, leaning against the shelf. Peter scoffed a little, getting a vibe that this man was a little too full of himself. 

“Oh really know? That’s it? That’s all you can do?” Peter asked, decided to play along and tease this guy that he barely even knew. 

“Nope! I have an amazing aim when it comes to firearms and I am the ultimate skeeball champion! Try me, I’ll best you every day every time hands down!” Wade continued, shifting from subject to subject a little too quickly for Peter’s comfort. 

“Oh, well I happen to have a secret talent when it comes to claw machines. I don’t think I’ve ever not drew a plushie whenever I play a round,” Peter explained, going with the theme a bit. This stranger’s peppy and energetic air was starting to get to him, but only a little bit. 

“Dude, dude! That’s like, awesome! Anyways, I also have a secret talent in french kissing, painting replicas of Bob Ross paintings and always screwing things up. What about you?” Wade asked, mindlessly putting the Cards Against Humanity box on the shelf filled with Barbie dolls whose waists were way too skinny for a healthy girl to have. 

“I have the awesome ability of always finding a way to be alone. Always. I also have the ability to stay introverted and marathon Stephen Hawking books all day,” Peter said with a shrug, switching between his ‘abilities’ quickly. 

“Nice! While you read Stephen Hawking, I read Stephen King. I’m really digging that Carrie chick, you know? That whole let’s-spill-pig’s-blood-over-her-head is really my all time favorite prank. I guess the book is okay though,” Wade said with a shrug. 

“I’ve read Needful Things and The Shining by Stephen King. He’s an amazing author and I love his style of writing, even if I dislike horror and thriller novels,” Peter explained, happy to get into the familiar subject of books. 

“The Shining was a great movie. There was one episode of the Simpsons where they recreated the ax-through-the-door scene which I enjoyed. I think I was eating popcorn during that scene,” Wade said, switching from novels to movie to TV. 

“Haven’t seem that. Well, uh, it was nice talking to you Mr. Wilson,” Peter said as he extended his hand. 

“It was a stupendous feet for me to accomplish by interacting with you… what’s your name?” 

“Peter. Peter Parker”. 

“Okay Petey, call me Wade. Or Time’s Sexiest Man of the Year. That title is also acceptable,” Wade said, cracking a smile. 

“Well, see you around,” Peter said and slowly shuffled away, face flushing a rosy red for a couple of different reasons. One- he had complimented him and Two- he was surprisingly fun to talk to, despite how loud he was. It was fun to talk and he was almost embarrassed that he chatted with a stranger tourist and liked it. When did that happen? Then again, he was a tourist so he probably wouldn’t ever see Wade again, like ever. Yet he was happy. 

 

Maybe this day won’t turn out so badly after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading this not-the-greatest-but-just-meh chapter! I'll probably in the future go back and really update this. As always, any sort of feedback is always appreciated. Have a great rest of your day/night!


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